A Fondness for Flowers
by Comics4theFeels
Summary: Dwarves aren't fond of flowers. Or all things that grow, as a matter of fact. It was the way Mahal made them and Ivon cursed them. So why does the Durin prince find a certain Bywater flower so beautiful?
1. Bree

**I'm really happy with the way this turned out, even if it is a bit scatterbrained at times :3 More notes at the bottom!**

**(_Ivon_ is Sindarin for the Valar Yavanna, I didn't want to call her _Yavanna_ because that's her Quenyan name; sadly we don't know what any of the other Valar's names are in Khuzdul besides Aule/Mahal :T)**

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The company had taken the most direct route east out of the Shire, passing through a dainty little place called Bywater, well cultivated and cherished as the dwarves could clearly tell by the unnecessary intricacy of a round number of gardens dotted absolutely everyplace imaginable; then on beside a small stinky marshland area — the name of which never reached the youngsters' ears; and then on directly to Bree, where they rested for the night. Not bad for the first day of their journey.

The young lion prince kept going back to those Bywater gardens and the creatures that inhabited them. After their first night with a hobbit, the poor rabbit didn't seem fun at all. The burglar was definitely going to empty every flagon of ale he could find, Fili was sure of it. What a sour little berry.

But Fili's mind was not on the burglar; oh no, it was on that flower. That one flower, standing tall and bright and surprisingly quiet. Hobbit gardens were truly an . . . interesting predicament. Fili, being a dwarve and therefore not very fond of living things (as Mahal made them to be), found perplexing beauty in certain blossoms of those Bywater gardens. A few even reminded him of the jewels his line cherished so.

There were a few with hundreds of petals, those complex, boring things you expected to see in any garden. Hobbits in general tended to be very hard to understand, so hard in fact it was difficult to have a good time with them.

There were those short, plain, popular blooms you actually did see in every garden. Most hobbits tended to look the same, they all got lost in the fray. At least with dwarves, one could have a variety. Not necessarily true when it came to the furry-footed burglars, Fili found. All were beardless, had feet and ears like a hare, so quiet they were!

The only generally good fact about the creatures was that they laughed heartily — _but at all the wrong things_! They laughed about youngins being caught with their paws in the cookie jar, a miscounting of spoons — oh the spoons! what is it with hobbits and spoons?! —, a comrade falling into The Water on a recent fishing trip.

_Those aren't things to laugh about!_ Fili thought to himself.

Every time he found himself bickering over hobbits and their complicated ways, though, he always kept wandering back to that single solitary flower. Her petals were dull, her pollen-gold bird's nest the same as most other hobbits', her eyes bright and cheery; she was a regular pebble in a bucket full of stones — but oh! how beautiful she was to him.

He'd hardly even laid eyes on her and yet the lion prince realized he could not get her out of his mind. He wished to crown her with jewels, tame that wild bird's nest atop her head, compare her simple beauty to that of the Arkenstone, a gem Fili had only heard great tales of.

He — fortunately — had not yet been born when the Great Worm came down from the north, and he heard his mother sing those praises everyday of his life.

That flower, what was her mother like? Fili wondered. They'd personally run into no female hobbits on their journey through the Shire. Were they all worry warts like the burglar? Were they sweet globs of honey? Were they feisty little hobgoblins like every dwarrowdam the lion prince had encountered? Did they frown on all that wasn't polite and proper? Fili made a mental note to ask the burglar once they got more aquainted.

The prince tossed in his bed, unable to take her off his mind. Maybe the burglar knew her? Hobbits seemed to have their nose in everything that went in around them. Maybe she was his niece, or one of his numerous cousins, or a cousin of his cousin; he'd heard the burglar had quite a few relations in that area.

There was one thing Fili declared that night, one thing that was much too true: hobbits were too darn complicated.

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Somehow he'd managed to fall asleep afterwards, and awoke to Master Bombur prodding him gently with his swollen fingers. "Rise and shine, Your Goldenness." the red-bearded dwarve chuckled.

"His Goldenness" rose with a smirk and a wipe of his sapphire eyes. "What's for breakfast Master Bombur?" he asked with a warm-hearted simper, trying to block the new sunlight streaming in from the window. It was early, much too early.

Master Bombur grinned beneath his moustache. The dwarrow produced two tough strips of dried meat, things that looked and tasted more like sandstone than an animal. As the prince nearly broke his teeth on one of them, the cook explained, "Best be saving things like this for the road. Care to help me go fetch something a little fresher?"

Fili was more than glad to leave the crowded room, even if the thought was much easier than figuring out where to step so as to not wake anybody. Dwarvish boots aren't exactly the quietest of footwear. Upon reaching the door, Fili turned and wondered if he should wake Kili. The dark-haired prince was sleeping soundly, sprawled out on the bed as was his usual position. Fili decided against it, joining Master Bombur and apparently Master Bofur outside. The miner was sitting happily, smoking his new hobbit's weed and telling his brother how much the sunrise meant to him.

The prince didn't get to hear most of the tale, much to his sorrow: Master Bombur wanted to get out and along and back again before all the Big Folk meandered out onto the lane.

The smartest thing Bombur did that day was the first thing he did. He ran to the marketplace, Fili close on his tail, and tossed the young prince an apple and the woman at the stand a coin or two. The lion prince laughed heartily; Bombur sure did know him well. The rest of that hour of the morning was spent buying a whole assortment of meats and spices and even a few "special requests" (Bombur loved to spoil the little dwarve, that was sure). By the time they returned Master Bofur was still outside smoking and Kili was still sprawled about sleeping like a dragon, but the others were stirring. Master Bifur had disappeared to who knew were; Uncle Thorin was speaking quietly with Masters Gloin, Balin, and Dwalin; Masters Dori and Ori were making tea; Master Oin was quietly making sure he had every herb that he couldn't get when they were all out and about in the wild; and the wizard and burglar were nowhere to be seen.

Bombur shoed Dori and Ori away from the hearth, demanding that their tea could wait, and plopped most of the meat in a huge pan produced from a place that was anyone's guess. Fili quickly stashed his goodies in the secret places in his pack before quietly taking off his boots and tiptoeing over to the bed on which Kili was sprawled. He loved it when Kili slept in.

Thorin barely needed to glance over to know the shouts belonged to his nephew. Fili'd jumped him again. Ugh, when would the youngster learn.

The two prince's had actually just fallen off the bed, creating such a huge ruckus that the whole inn shook. Thorin didn't intervene in the first place, he sure wasn't going to intervene when Fili ran for cover under a bed and Kili started jumping on said bed to try and smoke his brother out, and he wasn't going to intervene when the two charged out into the street in a tumble, rolling all over and stopping just before they landed in a puddle of mud. Dirty furs were no use against the cold and the snow and the rain that they would undoubtedly run into. Kili was chased back inside by Fili and the two immediately pushed two beds together and hid underneath, giggling about their silly antics.

The king rolled his eyes at the carelessness he saw in his heirs. He was handed his plate by Bombur with a bow and a gracious "My liege."

"Did your children ever grow out of this, Bombur?" the king asked quietly as his nephews struggled to free themselves at the smell of fresh meat.

Bombur raised his bushy brows and shook his head, demeanor playful and smirk entirely hidden by the biscuit in his mouth, plopping an extra sausage or two on Thorin's plate.

The king contained his smirk and commanded, "Fili! Kili!"

The lion prince hopped to his feet immediately, his little brother half exposed from his lowly prison.

"You two will see to the ponies before you partake in some of Master Bombur's excellent breakfast."

He didn't need to ask if they understood. The two princes knew quite well _why_ they had to "check on the ponies," even if everyone knew Thorin had already seen to them himself.

Thorin walked outside, taking a seat next to Master Balin with his breakfast and observed his nephews as they continued their romp on their way to see to the ponies. Maybe they'd grow out of it. Frerin never really did. Deep down he was always itching for a good fight, especially with his elder brother. Frerin always knew how to braid Thorin's beard the wrong way. The king saw a lot of his brother in the boys, actually, and wondered how that could be, considering he'd passed shortly before Fili was born.

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As invested as Fili was in munching his apple or tackling his little brother or making sure Minty's coat was brushed exactly twice or letting Master Bifur braid some assorted wildflowers into his hair because the older dwarrow absolutely _insisted_, his mind still wandered. Did his flower like her apples red like her cheeks or green like her eyes or gold like her curls? Were her battles with her siblings ones of words or of actions? Was her family large? Did they enjoy ale or wine? What were their family traditions? What were customary hobbit traditions?

He had so many questions he'd hardly noticed he'd stopped brushing Minty's mane; he'd forgotten Bifur was braiding his hair; heck, he'd forgotten about breakfast! Kili was saying something to him, and from the looks of it he wanted to leave. Taking advantage of the fact that Master Bifur was in no way, shape, or form ready to relenquish his hold on the lion prince's mane, Fili motioned for Kili to go ahead without him. The younger prince shrugged and mentioned something about there not being anymore sausages or bacon by the time he got there, but Fili was engrossed in his thoughts again. He was, for the twelve-thousandth time, going over the moment he'd handed her that flower. How his heart sang to see her eyes light up like that.

They'd been going along at quite a slow pace, but considering how fast the bushes were passing by, Fili was lucky he had enough time to pull one of his knives from his boot, reach down from his pony, saw off a rose and hand it to her all in the span of about thirty seconds. He'd been so happy she hadn't been offended that he'd just clipped one of her roses. Fili had been a bit disappointed that he couldn't break off the thorns before gently passing it to her warm palm, but her expression was so deeply heartfelt he knew she was just as genuine as he was.

The prince wondered what suddenly felt so off to him; ah, yes, Master Bifur had finally finished. Fili turned around to see Bifur's face hadn't changed but his eyes smiled for him. "Thank you, Master Bifur." Fili acknowledged with a greatful nod. Bifur's hands moved quickly, but Fili gathered that he had to leave the flowers in all day. The prince chuckled. "As you wish, sir." The dwarrow physically grinned this time and motioned for the lad to go get some breakfast.

Before Fili even entered the room to inquire if Master Bombur had saved anything for the lad who helped him in the early morn, the prince had several company members pry about the flowers, and Fili quickly shut them up by saying it was Master Bifur's doing and "you better not make him mad, don't wanna see what he'd do with that boar spear, do we now?"

Luckily, Master Bombur had managed to save Fili enough meat to keep him going until the next meal and Kili still hadn't found his hidden goodies, alright!

As Fili ignored his little brother's rant about the flowers, the prince decided something. Once they'd conquered their mountain, once the dragon was slain and all was put right in the northeast wing of the world, he'd return to the Shire. The burglar — providing nothing unfortunate happened along the way — would definitely want to return to his precious hole in the hill, and his own mother would need to make the journey from Ered Luin to Erebor. It was the perfect excuse! He'd escort the burglar home, woo his precious flower, and bring her and his mother Dis back to the Lonely Mountain.

Fili liked that plan. One day he'd return to the Shire and make that flower his, no matter what it cost him.

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**One does not write a fic about Fili and not have an apple joke in there. It just isn't done. If you don't get the apple joke by now, I will refer you to the chapter "A Warm Welcome" in _The Hobbit._**

**And yeah, idk where the Bifur with the flowers came from, my fingers typed it out and I liked it enough to keep it. **

**I tried to show both sides of Fili, that he's both young and naive and "knows nothing of the world" (because he just automatically thinks that killing the dragon is going to be a piece of cake without any longterm affects) and the mature side, the young dwarve that tries his hardest to be the prince everyone expects him to be. **

**And yes, this fic actually is very sad if you know the ending of _The Hobbit_.**

**Review if you feel like it :3 Idk what you'd say, but any feedback is appreciated!**

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**If anyone would like me to continue, I'd be glad to :3 I have a few ideas and I'm kinda just working out some kinks, but if anyone wants me to write more I'd be happy to :)**


	2. Beorn's Lodge

**Well, here we are, Chapter 2 :D**

**Future chapters will skip to specific points in their journey, hopefully putting this fic at 6 chapters :) **

**C.G. requested more, so here it is! Even though it's still really short ;-; . . . **

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Uncle Thorin was recovering fine, the white warg hadn't done too much damage. They all had good dwarvish armor to thank for that. The dwarve had a few scratches and the wizard had thankfully healed all the serious wounds. He was currently lying on his back on his cot, brow knitted, a small bead of sweat trickling off his temple. The lion prince, sitting on the edge of his cot, watched with a hunter's blue gaze from across the fire pit as the wizard moved to wipe it away. Gandalf whispered a few words, hand ghosting Thorin's head and shoulders; the king's brow relaxed and he seemed to slip deeper into a dream he may have once wished.

Fili pitied his uncle. What sort of life had he wanted to live? How often did he dream of his life, how it should have been? How often did he curse the fell Worm for disrupting that dream?

The prince knew full well Thorin would disapprove of his thoughts. He shouldn't dream, dreaming didn't get anything done; he had to act. Especially being the crown prince of a mighty kingdom. Dreaming wasn't practical. Dreaming didn't fight orcs. Dreaming didn't protect your loved ones. But his uncle's attitudes towards dreaming only made Fili wonder. What was he like before the Worm came? His must've dreamed a lot.

Fili smiled to think of it. His uncle, a dreamer? As ludicrous as it seemed, the lion prince knew it to be true. Uncle Thorin was once a dreamer. Maybe when they regained Erebor, maybe his Uncle would dream a little more often.

Fili sat smoking his pipe thoughtfully. Thankfully, that was something he still had on his person when they went through Goblin Town; it had been an heirloom passed on from his father's father. The lion prince studied it's scaled bowl thoughtfully.

Staying with the bear-man was an unusual thing. He certainly ate like a dwarve, that was a good thing: little bickering and plenty of ale. Those animals that served him were also quite strange, but Fili assumed being able to change into a bear had it's perks. But whether man or bear, one still had to stay on the good side of those atrociously huge bees. The prince shuddered to think of them again; but he was also glad, for those little monsters let his mind drift to flowers again.

What about his flower? Did she smoke? What did hobbit pipes even look like?

The burglar was sleeping peacefully next to him. Fili hated to wake him, but after a gentle prod, the hobbit woke and gave the dwarve quite an interesting look. The lion prince pushed it aside and asked "Do your women smoke, Mr. Baggins?" albeit a bit stupidly. Dwarrowdams smoked whenever they wanted, but what about his precious flower?

It took the burglar a moment for the question to register before he rumbled, "Not usually." The prince looked so sincere, almost concerned, that Bilbo had to be kinder and restrain himself from hitting the youngster over the head with his rolled up coat.

Fili looked like he needed a moment to think the hobbit's answer over, so when he turned back towards the fire Bilbo shrugged it off and curled back into his woolen blanket.

The prince was glad. His flower didn't look like the kind of woman to hold a pipe between her lips.

A thought occurred to Fili just then. A thought of something urgent, something he needed to know.

Bilbo was just on the edge of continuing his dreams of biscuits and tea and a nice quiet hobbit hole without any noisy, muddy dwarves whatsoever when Fili nudged him again. The burglar nearly had a fit this time. His eyes snapped open and he fixed the golden-haired dwarve with a furious gaze. Fili was quite oblivious to Bilbo's obvious annoyance and asked "What names are common among your women, Mr. Baggins?"

The burglar's head tilted so sharply in the direction of his pillow Fili wondered if his neck had given out on trying to hold his head up. "Depends." he nearly growled.

Fili's brows were knitted. "You can't think of any?"

Bilbo was so cross he just started spewing examples. "Rosie, Daisy, Ruby, Canella, Primula, Myrtle, Linda, Belba, Belladonna, Pearl, Esmeralda, Primrose, May, some type of flower, Fili, what is this about?!"

The hobbit's sudden outburst startled the lion prince a little bit. He'd thought his question simple, hardly anything to get angry about. It's not like Fili'd knotted his beard — wait the hobbit didn't have one — it wasn't like he'd knotted the hair on his feet or anything! But the prince blushed nonetheless. "Just curious." he admitted gently and turned back to the fire, his arms pulled close.

Bilbo sputtered for a little bit before he realized the effect his outburst had on the lad. Grumbling, the burglar got up, arranged his blanket so it wasn't in anybody's way, and moved to the end of his cot so he sat parallel to the lion prince; the lad was glowing gold in the light of the fire they sat before. "Why the sudden curiosity?" he ventured, trying to keep the annoyance out of his words.

Fili shrugged and didn't reply. Bilbo knew the lad was holding out on him, but he didn't push it. It wasn't his business to pry. The hobbit nearly went back to sleep then and there, seeing as there wasn't anyway he'd be able to comfortably get any more information from the golden prince, when a thought came to him. "Are you worried about your uncle?"

Fili, deep in his thoughts of knowing how dreaming of his little flower would upset Thorin but also wondering if Uncle had ever wanted a dwarrowdam of his own, almost forgot he'd woken Bilbo up again. The prince looked at him confusedly, so Bilbo nodded across the fire to the cot on which the gently wounded king rested peacefully. Fili thought for a few seconds before pursing his lips outwards in that way that he did and shook his head. "No."

"Why not?"

Fili shrugged. "He's going to be alright, he's recovered from worse before."

"He's been bitten by a warg _before_?"

The prince chuckled heartily. "No, but he _has_ had worse." He looked over to Bilbo, an amused twinkle in his eye, to find the hobbit asking for more. Fili sighed. "When I was younger, we were living in Dunland. I was born there, actually." Fili took a moment to remember those grassy hills as he gave his pipe a few puffs. "Those hills were riddled with dangers. I remember one winter — was the heaviest we'd had in years; My mother Dis had just given birth to that little hobgoblin over there —" he motioned with his smile and his pipe over to his brother, sleeping face down and snoring contently a few cots away "— and I was helping her to watch him. He was so young I had to sleep with him in his crib to make sure he didn't freeze." The prince motioned to his sleeping uncle across the fire. "Uncle Thorin came back unconscious, being carried by Master Dwalin and another scout. He had black arrows in both his shoulders —" He gently tucked his pipe in his lap and motioned to each place "— a large gash along the back of his shoulder, and a broken leg."

Fili puffed on his pipe again and continued quietly after a moments pause. "He was in bed for nearly a month, and only after that was he let up to test his leg." He shook his head, chuckling gently. "I think he almost forgot how to walk, he stumbled so many times."

When all settled into a quiet cotton, Fili looked over to Bilbo, surprised to find the hobbit staring at his uncle with an air of admiration he hadn't had before. Sure, they'd forgiven each other for all their harshness, but Bilbo hadn't necessarily _admired_ Thorin. Fili prodded him playfully in the shoulder. "Ya'lright there, _Mr. Boggins_?"

Bilbo shook his head and closed his mouth. "I'm fine, Fili."

The two sat once again staring into the flames in a comfortable silence, disturbed only by the quiet crackling of the fire, the gentle shuffles of an animal outside, the dwarves' radiant snoring.

"What do you dream of, Mr. Baggins?" Fili hardly found the question odd, and neither did the burglar.

"Seven meals a day, a warm bed. And a bath." he admitted slowly, a large smile gracing his fire-shadowed face.

Fili too found it funny, but he said, "I'm serious, Mr. Baggins."

"Oh what _do_ I dream of . . ." the hobbit asked himself. Fili waited patiently as the burglar pursed and unpursed his lips. "I dream of . . . a village on a hill, near the base of a mountain, her banners flowing in the strong winds coming from the east. I dream I journey there one day, kick a stone across the street; a child will go chasing after it."

"That's a strange thing to dream about, Mr. Baggins." Fili admited gently after a moment's pause, even though he thought the whole thing quite interesting.

Bilbo gave the young lad a sarcastic glance. "Alright then, _lad_, what do _you_ dream about?"

Fili thought for a moment, his gaze returning to the fire and it's burning embers. "I dream of the day my uncle will smile freely again." he said quietly.

Bilbo's face fell blank. He blinked dumbly twice, not knowing what he could say. But the lad went on.

"I dream of the day my mother will look to the sky without tears. I dream of the day my father will return from his journey to the south." Fili kindly looked Bilbo in the eyes. "I know the fate of my father, Mr. Baggins. Your dream seems much more likely to come true than any of mine."

Bilbo was striken. What could he say? After a moment of gaping, Biblo coughed. "Oh lad, don't be so serious, your dreams aren't — impossible." He shifted uneasily under Fili's gentle blue gaze. Stretching, Bilbo wished Fili goodnight and cuddled back onto his cot, sticking his feet towards the fire and pulling the blanket up under his chin.

Just before he drifted off, he heard Fili mumbling slowly and quietly. "Rosie, eh . . . Primula, no, no, Myrtle? No, a pony's name, that is. Linda, Belba, Canella . . . Canella? . . . . Canella, Canella, yes, I think that's it . . . My dear Canella . . ."

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**Thorin used to be a dreamer, that's why he thinks the boys resemble he and Frerin :) because they actually kinda do ;)**

**Oblivious Fili is oblivious -and adorable-**

**Idk if female hobbits smoke :| But I like the way Bilbo turned out :D what do you guys think?**

**Sad-things-happened-to-me-but-I-totally-don't-regr et-any-of-it Fili is so depressing I can't even believe I wrote that ;-;**

**Awkward Bilbo is awkward XD**

**So yeah idk where all the depressing things came from buuuuut . . . . . . Review anyway?**

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**I searched for about an hour trying to find Fili's flower the most perfect name, and after my search in the Appendicies in the back of _The Return Of The King_ proved fruitless, I gave up and used Google. Long story short, I ended up with _cannella_, the Latin root for "cinnamon" and it was the only option I had that I really liked :)**

**Fili's pipe refrence: wetanz .Com(slash) pipe-of-fili-the-dwarf (slash)**


	3. Thranduil's Dungeons

******Ugh, sometimes I find myself writing this fic in first person before I remember I already posted chapters in third ._. writer problems**

**Enjoy the chapter! :)**

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******BUT BEFORE YOU START READING:**

******The violin music: you (remove spaces) tube .Com(slash) watch?v= (remove spaces) QuNhTLVgV2Y**

******The other song that inspired this chapter: you (remove spaces) tube .Com(slash) watch?v= (remove spaces) RimdeE9iUDk**

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Fili couldn't believe it, he just couldn't. _He was alive_! Oh what a day he'd had. The company got lost in that cursed black forest, Uncle nearly got separated from everybody, they almost got eaten by spiders as big as ponies, and then they get rescued — one could hardly call it a rescue, more of an exchange from one captor to another — by — of _all_ people — _elves_! And not even any elf, the _prince_ of said cursed black forest! Mahal help those wobbly traitors if Fili ever found a way out of his cell.

As he paced frantically, he pondered several things — no, no, _pondered_ was the wrong word . . . _found an increasing number of things to complain about_ sounded more accurate.

Everything about this place was murky. The Elven King's huge palace was draped with a veil that muted every stone, every elf, every boring piece of brown in a thousand mile radius!

Fili slumped down defeated. Perched against the wall, the cell door with it's small, incredibly tall window to his left, the back wall to his right. From where he sat, he had a perfect view of the lantern hanging from the ceiling just outside his cell. Elven lanterns were an interesting predicament; while dwarvish ones were filled with embers, sometimes oil, and fire, elven lanterns were most definitely not. One could get a fire to glow blue if his forge were sweltering enough, but it was grueling work and it wasn't this blue. Oh no, definitely not a blue like this.

Elven blue was bright, clear, it's gentle touch drove away the lingering fingers of murkiness haunting the edges of the prince's thoughts. It wasn't a flame though, it never flickered. "Must be magic . . ." the lion prince murmured. He turned away from the light and tilted his head back against the wall, letting his breathing quiet and his heart slow. The prince decided he couldn't be angry at the simple things — why, wht _exactly_ was he angry about?

Deep down inside, he knew. He didn't want to admit it to anyone, not even Kili. _He was angry at himself._

It was then that Fili realized just how naive he'd been throughout this whole journey. He actually felt quite stupid; it'd only taken his uncle almost getting killed, nearly getting eaten by spiders, and now being separated from the rest of the company for the prince to realize _everything_ that could go wrong on the remainder of their journey, all of the things that could affect the rest of his life.

As he sat in the dust of his cell, Fili thought about what to come. Would they make it to the Mountain by Durin's Day? Would they ever find the secret door his grandfather and great-grandfather had escaped from? Would they even get out of these elven dungeons?!

Fili felt like he was about to break apart; would he ever see his little brother again? A tear rolled down his cheek as the lion prince thought of them all. His blessed uncle? Bofur's cheery smile, little Ori's childlike demeanor, Bifur's insane obsession with flowers, Dwalin's bone-crushing slaps on the back?

In an effort to calm his labored breathing and open his swollen throat, Fili wondered what each of them was doing right now. Oin might be sitting there teasing the guard, "You'll have to speak louder, laddie!" Nori was picking the lock, or finding someway to get to the lock so he could pick it; that was a fact and Fili knew it. Dori would be grumbling quietly. Balin may have actually gotten into a polite conversation with his guard. Bombur was sleeping; that was also a fact. Gloin would probably be trying to break down the door, or eat his way through the wall. The thought actually made Fili laugh, even if his throat clenched so hard more tears rolled down his face; Gloin definately would try to eat his way through a wall, if there was no other way out.

Fili was at a loss, everything he did only made him hurt all the more. He thought he might have to resort to punching the wall until he wore out and collapsed into sleep's evasive arms. That was until the deep drone of a violin in the distance begin to grow louder and louder. _Probably a feast in the halls_, he thought. At first, the violin also made him angry, but the longer he listened, the more he came to realize it's saddening hum seemed all too melancholy to be at a feast. That elf who wore a configuration of twigs and leaves on his head and called himself king commanded nothing less than absolute glee at his gatherings.

So that left the question: _where was it coming from?_

The lion prince opened his eyes and, to his amazement, found that the room had darkened. The lamp outside was dimmer, so dim Fili could catch the round glow of it's core from deep within the heart of the structure that contained it. Had he fallen asleep? No, the tears on his cheeks were still fresh . . .

A sudden gleam caught his eye and the prince turned to look at the green snake curling about a rock a few feet in front of his boots. Fili began to draw away and was about to call for help — not caring who came to his rescue, snakes were nearly as terrifying as spiders (_nearly_) — when he realized the shape was not a snake at all. It was a kind of short, glowing vine, sprouting from the stone floor and curling around the rock it stood next to with a speed that wasn't exactly fast, but for a plant it grew like lightning. The violin continued to play.

Fili watched in amazement as a small bud developed on the end, growing and growing in size before finally blooming with a burst of particular radiance. Its petals were a brilliant white, speckled with silver and blue crystals; the flower's pistol was a vast array of reds, greens, and golds. The flower seemed to fix him with it's hidden gaze, beckoning him closer with every new petal that unfurled itself.

The prince found himself on his hands and knees, crawling closer to her innocent smile. When he was close enough and looking down upon her, her smile widened; she grew to look him in the eyes, her green eyes glimmering in such a way that the prince knew she meant him no harm. As she kissed his forehead gently, the prince felt her hands caress his own. She gently reached up with one hand and cupped his cheek.

Her singing melted with the ghostly notes of the violin to make a music that touched a deep part of the prince's heart. _Why have you come?_ the prince found himself thinking, smiling gently. She smiled to match, their fingers twining.

"Why indeed, small one."

Fili seemed to wake from his stupor, and looked frantically about his cell. He'd forgotten where he was. The elf woman looked down on him through the window, her red hair framed by the bright, lonely blue light from the lantern outside. The dwarve looked back to where his flower had stood, but he found nothing but the wall before him. No crack in the floor. No stone. No vine.

No flower.

He turned back to the Captain as she said, "You're breathing has been pretty inconsistent; we can hear it from down the hall."

His brows scrunched together. "You were worried?" Fili said with an air of snobbish disbelief.

She scoffed. "Hardly, dwarve. Your discrepant snores were disrupting my guards' slumber." At this she chuckled. "They've had a rough night, too much serious business. I had to give them a few bottles to drain."

Fili found it odd that she gave him this irrelevant information so easily. "Are you sure you haven't drained a bottle yourself, _captain_?"

Her red hair seemed to burst into flames in her anger as her cheeks flushed a bright pink. She said something to him in that absurdly bland language of theirs and stormed away in the direction she must have come.

The prince ignored her as he turned and brushed the wall with the tips of his fingers. "Where did you go . . ."

Just then, there was a gently persistent tapping at the door. Fili rose to his feet and raised a hand to wipe the tears from his face, utterly suprised when he found there were none. Nonetheless he composed himself and pressed his large dwarvish ear to the door. "Hello?" he called softly.

"Fili! Fili is that you?" The voice on the opposite side was whispering fiercely.

"Yes it's me, who is this?" Fili asked, whispering as loud as he dared.

"It's Bilbo!"

The words needed a moment to register in the prince's brain. "Oh Bilbo." he remembered as there was a rustling of keys. The door opened to reveal nobody. "I quite forgot about you, dear burglar." Fili apologized as he stepped from the cell, looking about but finding the hobbit nowhere in sight.

The burglar's voice whispered sharply in his ear. "Listen Fili. There's a store room with a bunch of barrels down this hall. There are a couple elves in there, but they're out cold. Had too much wine, I saw it all myself. I need you to get into one of the barrels, but let nobody see you! I'll be sending more dwarves your way, so hurry! Hurry!"

There was a sharp shove to his back as Fili turned around to try and find the hobbit, but all he saw was a glimpse of a shadow on the wall of his cell. The shadow of an intricate flower.

The storeroom wasn't too hard to find, thanks to the deep yet quiet snores of the drunk elves. He'd never thought such a thing was possible. _Drunk elves_. Inching past them, quietly noting the obscene amount of bottles littering the table and the large puddles of expensive wine speckling the floor, Fili hopped precariously to the rows of barrels stacked and roped together. Picking one of the barrels higher up, Fili climbed his way up there and nestled himself safely inside, happy he could easily see the door and any incoming dwarrows.

Fili used the following moments in which he was alone — save for the sleeping elves, but they were nothing to worry about — breathing deeply, hardly believing he'd been rescued, by little Bilbo nonetheless! The strong smell of the apples that once used to sit in his barrel helped to calm the young dwarvish princeling. The prince wiped the exhaust from his face with his free hand. Wait —

The lion prince looked down to his left hand, curled tightly around something. Uncurling his fingers was more an ordeal than he thought it would be, but once his hand lay open, Fili found a jewel flower in his hand. The exact stones it had grown from, Fili could not tell; it glowed and sparkled like no other gem the young dwarve had ever seen before. He chuckled, turning it over and over in his hand. "If stones could grow . . ." So delicate it seemed, yet strong and resilient, as if it wouldn't break if put under the fiercest flames and the strongest hammer.

Fili climbed softly from his wooden casing. He hunted around the storeroom for a few minutes trying to find a cloth or a small length of rope. After opening a few drawers and climbing up on a few counters, Fili was able to reach a kind of lanyard with keys dangling from it. Untying the leather strap and removing the keys, he returned to his barrel, winding the leather around and around the flower until it was secure. He slipped it over his neck and felt an assuasive equanimity sweep over him as the flower nestled close to his heart.

Heavy breathing coming from the hall alerted Fili of another escaped dwarrow. Gloin rounded the corner, beard matted with pebbles and rock dust. Fili gaped as the banker caught notice of the prince hanging out of a barrel, hopped over the wine puddles, and deposited himself in the barrel below Fili. "Don't tell me you tried to eat your way out." the prince whispered, looking down at Gloin expectantly.

Gloin grumbled, saying something about how bad it all tasted.

Fili had to supress his booming laughter. A ruby-faced Gloin smacked his arm multiple times in an effort to try and get him to stop sputtering. "Shut up you little hobgoblin, it's not that funny! Now be quiet before the stupid guards wake up and throw us back!"

Fili didn't know what it was he had been so worried about. Clutching the flower beneath his shirt tightly, he knew. He knew they'd be just fine . . .

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******This chapter was kind of hard to write, A) because my chapter outlines are so vague I kinda have no idea what it is I'm writing so I literally just have to go with where my fingers take me and B) because DoS hasn't come out yet so I don't know what this scene will look like; so I just decided to stick with how it is in the book.**

**I'm very pleased with this end result. When I first wrote this chapter this morning, I actually kinda panicked because it was absolutely horrible X*D When I re-read it, I thought hey let's put this chunk in another place to see how it goes and suddenly the chapter was beautiful :D**

**I'm also really happy that you readers can see the small bits of humor I try to add :3 I only hope you all can see the symbolism and deeper meaning in this fic as well.**

**ALL OF THE APPLE JOKES!**

**And yeah, I still know absolutely nothing about Tauriel ._. So sorry if she's nothing like this, but she's probably had a whole bottle of wine to herself so yeah that's my excuse. **

**The flower looks kind of similar to (but not exactly) this: ****gotoglamourgirl .Com(slash) wp-content/uploads (slash) 2009/05/ (remove spaces) jewel-flower-ring (d-o-t) (remove hyphens) jpg**

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******Oh my goodness, I truly am wicked, aren't I? Right after I posted the last chapter, an awful idea came to me, a very awful idea. So awful I hate myself for thinking of it.**  


******But I'm gonna do it. You all will hate me. But I'm gonna do it.**  


**It's not in this chapter, I'll put it near the end of the fic.**

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**So, um, review?**


	4. Erebor

**C.G. Dude. O. M. G. Can u just get an account already so I can love you and shower you with cookies and reply to your reviews and just be your friend? **

**Plz?**

**In fact why don't ALL OF YOU GUESTS DO THAT?!**

**I knew I wanted to have Fili ask Bilbo more questions about female hobbits but since you asked for more I made a whole page of questions (do you know how long that took me) and I tried to logically fit them into this chapter**

**Haha, a teaser chapter of fluff, to, ya know, cushion you for the next one ;-; I'm sorry I'm doing this to y'all.**

**But enjoy all the adorable Fili fluff and Baggins sass :D All those questions required a lot of thinking, I hope y'all find it sufficient :3**

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**I realized today that the song "Honeybee" by Steampowered Giraffe kinda seems to fit Fili and Canella :) go give it a listen guys, tis a good song. **

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"_NONE of them have beards_?!"

Bilbo sighed, agitated beyond belief. He turned to the young lion prince, who was holding a large pot glittering with gems as Oin crouched next to him, oblivious to their conversation as he hunted for the best of the brightly colored stones. "Yes, _Fili_, _NONE_ of our women have beards."

"And you said they _all_ get married?!"

The burglar tossed the handfuls of gold coins over his shoulders. Fili didn't seem to notice, and just adjusted his hold on the large pot as the older dwarrow stuffed a few more jewels inside.

"_YES_, Fili." The burglar ground his teeth. Where was the youngster coming up with all of these questions! The young prince looked confused, so Bilbo found it in his heart to explain as gently as he could, "It's just a normality. _Most_ hobbit lasses get married, therefore when one doesn't, people are curious."

"That's wonderful!"

Bilbo snapped back to the prince. The glee sparkling through the lad's eyes and huge, beaming smile was evident; the burglar raised a questioning eyebrow at the young lad, who looked so happy he was about drop the pot and go bouncing off the pillars. Fili noticed Bilbo's curious eye and tried to stuff his mirth beneath his new fur collar, a huge blush sweeping across his cheeks like Smaug's fire. He mumbled something into his collar, but when Bilbo asked him to come again, Fili just asked "What are hobbit lad's like?" just to even out the playing field.

Bilbo frowned deeply; he knew that was no where close to what the prince had just said, but he replied nonetheless, turning back to the pile of gold coins he was climbing. "Much like you and your brother, though usually not _quite_ as adventurous."

When Fili didn't reply, Bilbo turned back to see the lad thinking hard, completely ignoring whatever Oin was asking him. He snapped back to attention in time to nod dumbly; the old dwarrow grumbled and deposited his last gem in the pot before slapping the prince on the shoulder, thanking him for his time, and "Now go get another pot, we still got the rest of this pile Mr. Baggins is so kindly sitting on."

The prince nodded softly and gently set the pot down by the base of a pillar, running off to the place he'd come from to find another pot to empty and then refill.

Bilbo Baggins smiled gently to see him go. "He's a good lad." he found himself saying.

"Did you say something Mr. Baggins? My hearing isn't all gone, you know —"

* * *

That night at dinner, Thorin was much less than happy. His deep, angry brooding was putting a damper on the whole company; everyone was more or less delighted by the fact that no one had been eaten yet, but if _Thorin_ _Oakenshield_ wasn't happy, _no_ _one_ could be happy.

Bilbo was grumbling angrily into his soup. Dwarves, sulking, selfish beings when you really got down to it. _Why_ had he even agreed to come on such an endeavor? He hadn't known what he was getting into, _that's_ why.

As Bilbo did his best to not sulk nearly as bad as the King Under the Mountain, someone sat beside him on the intricate stone bench. Who else?

"Good evening Mr. Baggins." the prince smiled politely. "You enjoying your dinner?"

The burglar gave the lad a pointed glance before gently setting his soup down, careful to not let the scalding bowl tip over onto his lap. "Alright lad, tell me something."

Fili stiffened but continued to bring his own bowl to his lips. "I'm all ears, Mr. Boggins."

"You've been asking me all about hobbits since Beorn's." Bilbo took a pause, wondering if Fili was going to stop his drinking and give him his full attention or not; when the dwarve made no move to stop drinking, the hobbit continued. "Why do you have such a curiosity?"

The prince brought the bowl down, cheeks swollen like a chipmunk, and stared into the distance, thinking hard. He shrugged and swallowed the entire contents of his mouth in one gulp with ease. "I've never heard anything about hobbits."

_So that's his excuse,_ Baggins thought. _Fine if he wants to play that game then_ — "Well I never hear anything about _you dwarves_ either; tell me about your women." he prodded.

Fili pursed his lips. "What do you want to know?"

Bilbo looked ready to throw his bowl at the prince. "_Anything_."

The lion prince thought for a moment. "Well, they all have beards."

Baggins clutched his bowl harder. "What _else_?"

Fili took longer to respond this time, as if he actually thought about his answer. "They're — very . . ." he had trouble choosing the right words, for the first time that day. "Tough."

Bilbo was about to open his smart mouth again when Fili turned to him, concern in his eyes. "No no no, don't take it wrong. I mean —" the little prince shuffled where he sat, switching his bowl from hand to hand "— they're great; my mother's a wonderful dwarrowdam, and most of the other's I've met are too."

"I heard there aren't very many. How many dwarven girls have you met?" Baggins asked with a sidelong look.

The dwarve stopped and thought. "Quite a few, actually."

Baggins chuckled. "I guess it pays to be the prince, eh?" he asked, elbowing the lad playfully.

Fili chuckled and looked down at his near empty bowl. "Yeah I guess so."

The hobbit sensed a change come over the young lad. "Buuut . . . . ?"

The lion prince breathed in through his teeth. "Their too — too —"

"Too much like you."

Fili turned to Bilbo almost instantly, blinking like a thunderstruck fawn. "Wha —"

"_Fili_!"

The prince perked up like a dog. Thorin motioned to him from across the room. Fili awkwardly got up and walked over to his uncle, expecting the worst. "Go take Kili and go practice with Dwalin and Gloin when you're finished eating. Be quick about it. That beast could come back anytime and I don't want him to catch us slacking."

"Yessir." the prince said quietly. Uncle wasn't happy.

The young lion prince downed the rest of his bowl then and there and, after passing his bowl to Bofur and telling him one serving was quite enough, he ran past Baggins to go get his swords and his little brother. From there the two princes could find the older dwarrows together.

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Most everyone was sleeping. Thorin was barely asleep, as Fili knew he was; his uncle could wake up at any sign of danger. Dwalin was on watch by the gates. Kili's head was in his elder brother's lap. The young lion prince sat smoking his pipe, contemplating his conversation with the burglar during dinner.

_They're too much like you._

What a strange thing to say.

But the longer Fili meditated on it, the more sense it seemed to make. Dwarrowdams were _just like_ dwarrows. Their cooking could kill trolls, they could bury an axe in an orc's head and not think twice about it, _they even had beards_! _Mahal what were you thinking?! _Fili thought. As he thought, more curious questions popped into his head.

What did female hobbits do for fun? Did they duel with each other? The image of his little Canella with a war hammer in her hand was so incredibly disturbing the prince pushed that thought away immediately. If they didn't duel then they must . . . . they must talk about improving their craft? No no no, Canella didn't have a craft; she wasn't a dwarrowdam! Fili's frown could turn gold coins to ash, until he remembered. Canella _gardened_! Yes, that was it, she spent her days tending to her flowers.

The prince couldn't help but wonder if she ever got bored of gardening. What else did she do all day? Fili gathered that she must cook a lot, hobbits did eat seven meals a day. Who did she cook for? Lets see, there must be a father, a mother, perhaps a sibling or two. Did she and her mother cook together? Yes, they must, that's what dwarrowdams and their daughters did. How alike were they really? Not much, the prince decided. But then again they _were_ women, there must be _something_ dwarrowdams and hobbit girls both like to do . . .

It was then that a horrible thought dawned on the young lion prince. A horribly terrible idea, an idea that needed to be resolved quickly. Fili looked around for something he could throw at the burglar, who lay much too far away for the prince to simply call his name and try to wake him up peacefully.

Haste was no time for peace.

The dwarrow spied a rock; no no, much too hard. Fili set his pipe down with all the grace that haste allowed, drew one of Kili's dirty boots from his feet, and gauged his arm strength.

The heavy dwarvish boot landed square on Bilbo's back, jolting him forward about a foot. Wow, Fili had gotten better since Mirkwood.

The hobbit looked ready to explode in a rush of flame and take the whole mountain down with him. Baggins rose to his feet with a soft battle cry of "_CONFOUND IT ALL_!" and nearly stomped on quite a few dwarves in his haste to grab Fili's collar and shake him furiously. "_Just WHAT is the meaning of all of this Fili_!" the hobbit hissed, quietly so as to not wake any of the others.

Fili pried his small hands from his fur collar and asked ernestly, "At what age to hobbit's get married?"

The prince hadn't thought it possible for the burglar to get any angrier. Needless to say, he did. "_This couldn't have waited until morning_?!"

Fili shook his head furiously. "'fraid not Mr. Baggins." _Poor little rabbit,_ he thought. "But you can sit down sir, please, if it helps you think."

Bilbo was shaking he was so furious. He gently descended to the ground, afraid too much movement would set him off again, and when Fili offered him his pipe he snatched it away and took a huge swig. "Unintentionally" blowing the smoke into the dwarve's face, Bilbo said, "Depends; usually around thirty-five, _I guess_."

Coughing the smoke from his nostrils, the prince asked, "How can you tell?"

"If a hobbit's married? Hm." Bilbo didn't need to think, he just liked watching the lad squirm. After the wake-up call he'd just been given, Bilbo thought he rightly deserved it. "The clearest indicator is if they're overly affectionate with their betrothed. The lass could also be given a kind of 'engagement necklace' or maybe a ring."

Fili certainly looked like he was combing through his memories. Indeed he was. He had no recollection of Canella wearing any jewelry when they'd met. Well, when he'd, you know, _trotted by on a pony_. He didn't have time to properly meet her, and that made him all the more melancholy. He'd never even heard her voice!

But that was a topic for later on, when he wasn't so panicked. Bilbo was handing him back the pipe, but when Fili reached for it, the hobbit withdrew and fixed him with an impenetrable gaze. "_Who is she_?" the burglar demanded.

Fili froze. "'She'?" he managed to gulp out.

Baggins frowned. "Yes, _she_. Who's this girl you've _really_ been asking about all this time?"

The prince felt his skin burning. He stuttered and made for the pipe; the dwarve wanted to hide from the suddenly intimidating hobbit behind his smoke. But the hobbit wouldn't relinquish his hold on the instrument. "It's alright, Fili, you can tell me; no one else is even awake!" he pointed out.

Fili stopped his feeble attempts to reclaim his family heirloom and sulked back against the wall, his arms crossed and his cheeks buried in his mane and furs. It took a while — and huge smoke rings as big as Bombur's beard set about the sulking dwarve's head at a consistent rate — before he finally mumbled, "Her name's Canella."

Bilbo pursed his lips. "Canella, eh?" Fili nodded feebly. "You asked her what her name was?" At this Fili shook his head sheepishly. "Mmm." the burglar grunted before taking a long lasting swig from the pipe and passing it back to the buried dwarve, who took it gently and pressed it to his lips, smoking with heavy thought.

"Why do you keep thinking about her?" the hobbit prompted.

It took quite a long while for Fili to answer. "I . . . . I don't know, to be honest." He almost sounded sad.

Bilbo cleared his throat. "Is she pretty?"

The prince's face softened. "She's beautiful."

The hobbit nodded. "Did you actually meet her? Does she know who you are?"

Fili kind of half-shrugged. "I gave her a flower, but it was when were on the ponies so that's all I had time to do . . ."

Oh how he sounded like he'd regretted not jumping off that pony and sweeping her up into his arms. Bilbo sighed and leaned back against the wall too, propping his huge hairy feet up on Kili's legs. The lad was dead asleep, what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

The two sat in silence for a while. "How often do you think about her?"

The prince chuckled; his hand moved to clutch beneath his furs. "Everyday."

"Really? Wow, you're stuck then."

The burglar and the prince shared a short chortle. "I guess I am."

It was then that a figure rounded the corner. "Uncle Thorin?" Fili asked with surprise. He hadn't noticed his uncle get up and leave. "What are you doing up so late?"

The King Under the Mountain grumbled. "I could ask you lads the same question." Thorin fixed the two with an icy glance, before he settled down into his bed roll. The two said no more until his uncle's quiet, even breathing was heard drifting lazily over the rest of the sleeping company.

A peaceful kind of silence settled over the hall again.

"Do you think I have a chance, Mr. Baggins?"

"Hmm?" The poor hobbit had been _that_ close to drifting off, catching up on the sleep he'd been missing for the past hour.

"Do you even think she'd remember me?"

"What," Baggins scoffed, readjusting his place on the wall, "a strapping lad like you? You're probably the only thing she's ever seen that has hair growing out of his face!"

Fili chuckled softly. "I'm serious Mr. Baggins."

Bilbo leaned his head back on the cool, scorched stone. "I think so."

"Do you know a girl named Canella?"

Bilbo thought a moment. "I think I might."

"What does she look like?"

He thought again, and sighed heavily. "She's got blonde hair, big cheeks, a bright smile —"

"That's her."

The burglar looked to the dwarvish prince. "Fili, a lot of hobbit girls look like that —"

The lion prince shook his head adamantly. "Not like she does."

Fili heard Bilbo sigh. After a few more minutes of silence, the hobbit got up and stretched. "Well, _if you don't mind_, I'd like to be going back to sleep about now."

Fili smiled. "Good night Mr. Baggins."

"And if you don't mind —" Baggins gently picked his way back to his bed roll "— I'd like to keep Kili's boot here with me, just so I have something to throw back at you if you decide to wake me up again."

Fili roared so loud at that Bilbo thought the rest of the company would surely wake up. But nope, not a dwarvish hair stirred. _Goodness me, it's a wonder they were all awake when the dragon came!_ the hobbit huffed.

After the two wished each other good night again ("And confound it all lad, _get some sleep already_!"), Fili once again was left alone with his waking dreams.

Canella wasn't married, of that the Durin prince was almost completely sure. But she seemed to be of a fine marrying age. How many naive hobbit lads did she have traipsing around after her? Probably a round dozen, at least. Fili found himself smiling at that. His beautiful little hobbit, suitors begging for her hand left and right.

He hoped this business in the mountain didn't take too long. He had not a moment to waste.

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**This was just supposed to be a teaser chapter, and there it goes being LONGER THAN EVERY OTHER CHAPTER OH MY GOODNESS ._. Figs**

**Eh heh heh heh ****_all of the sappy romances_****!**

**I love writing oblivious Fili. He's like my favorite adorable little sugar cube ever. I'll be sad when I can't write him anymore ;-; don't think about it! Just review!**

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**Is it the ****_real_**** Canella? Or did Fili fall in love with another girl? Will we wever know? Stay tuned! ;)**


	5. The Battle of Five Armies

**eh heh heh hehhhh . . .**

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Fili's heart ached. It ached more than it had when he accepted the fact that his father wasn't coming back. It ached so much more than it had when he'd seen his mother nearly starve herself with grief. He felt the physical ache spreading through his bones. He felt light-headed.

How much longer could he keep breathing?

The lion prince dropped to his brother's side. Kili wasn't grievously wounded like Fili was, not in the same way. Fili had been struck by claw and hammer, his injuries grave within as well as without, but Kili looked like Amad's pincushion. What his wounds lacked in depth they made up for in number. His brother would surely bleed to death before any infections set in, Fili was sure of it.

The younger heir's eyes fluttered open at the elder's gentle touch. Fili was nearly taken aback when Kili's mouth tugged itself into his tell-tale mischievous smile. "Hey Fili." How did he keep himself so calm?

The lion prince wanted to laugh. "Hey there, Kili." He stroked his brother's blood-matted hair gently, ignoring the blood running slowly down his quivering arm. "How ya doin?"

Kili chuckled, wincing just a little. "Eh, I'm doin alright." His voice was raspy and dry, like he needed a mug of ale to wash the dust in his throat away. But Fili knew. There was no ale around. It was not dust that clogged his little brother's throat. And it would be useless to try and get him to drink anything. "Could be a little comfier, but I think I can deal with it." It hurt him to speak.

His brother's answer made him angry; no, we was _not_ doing alright! Nonetheless, Fili would not let his temper show. No, not now. "Yeah? You sure?" Fili found his vision clouded, one eye closed to avoid getting the blood from the wound on his head in it, the other was just foggy. "I can go find — Oin, if you want. He probably has something that can fix you up — just fine." That wasn't his voice. It couldn't be. He wasn't choking, was he?

Kili shook his head gently. "Nah." he grasped his brother's hand heartily, bringing it up to rest between the shafts and wicked feathers on some unwounded part of his chest. It was as if he knew. Kili knew Fili better than anyone, of course he knew. "I got all I need right here."

Fili couldn't hold back his laugh, as grotesque as it was. His body heaved with the effort. "You sound — like _Amad_."

Kili's smile widened, his eyes squinting almost to the point where they closed. "Aye, that I do!" His voice was so soft, Fili could barely hear it. It sounded tired. Simply tired. Kili's eyes shut gently, he laid his head back.

The elder prince panicked. "Kili! _Kili_!" he called, surprised at how horrible his own voice sounded. No that definitely was not him.

Kili's brow furrowed, and his eyes peeked open again. "Calm down, Fili." he whispered. Then he smiled. "It's not like you won't be very far behind." The younger gently tapped the elder's equally bloody chest.

He then acted like he were shooing his brother away from a piece of pie that he'd snuck from Amad's kitchen. "Now lie next to me, you're getting blood all over my brand new armor."

Fili laughed so hard he couldn't help but obey. "As if you haven't already!"

Kili's smile widened. The tremors that shook through Fili devoid him of all his strength, but he nonetheless took his time turning over and lying up against the dead warg's matted pelt. The two watched the battle rage about them, green elves and gray men and foreign dwarrows and black goblins.

"Don't go saying hello to Adad without me, ya here?!" Fili chuckled.

Kili smiled in return. "I'll see if I can wait for you to get there."

The two shared one last look before the darker haired dwarve leaned his head back once more. His breathing evened out, and his elder brother knew there was nothing more to worry about. Kili would not go alone.

A sort of calm swept over him. Yes, that was right. He needn't worry about such things. Uncle Thorin was in good hands, he'd been taken to the healing tents by the bear-man himself. Fili hoped the men of Lake Town had seen the lack of sense in letting a halfling fight. And even if he'd been let onto the battlefield, the hobbit had his magic ring. Yes, no harm would befal the dear burglar, Bilbo Baggins.

Fili's eyes opened, to glimpse what a charming view they had before he and his brother joined in the merriment of the halls of their forefathers. The whole world seemed like a valley around them, a huge valley between the loneliest of mountains and the clean and beautiful north-south spine, a landmark that now didn't seem as far away as the lion prince knew it was.

The lion prince absentmindedly felt between the holes and gashes in his breast plate, clutching her slippery gift close to his burning heart. Fili didn't ache anymore. He hardly felt.

It was as if he were on the wings of Eagles once more, sailing over those mountains to a land that seemed as familiar to him as his home.

_Far over the Misty Mountains cold_

A land rich and green with rolling hills and a neat little river.

_We must away_

The dawn was just now breaking over the peaks, shining it's lovely light onto those gardens.

_'ere break of day_

Their flowers drank up the sunlight and the warmth it gave.

_To find our long-forgotten_

"I'll never forget you my dear."

_Gold_

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**eh heh heh heh hehhhhh . . .  
**

**Stick with me guys, we got one more chapter to go! :D I hope this one wasnt too short for you; it was much too short for me but in the end I thought it was perfect :)**

**I'm sorry your day wasn't very good, C.G. :( But I'm glad I could cheer you up :3 I waited to upload this chapter until Wednesday night, hoping ****you wouldn't get distracted :)**


	6. Epilogue

**I'm grinning like an idiot guys, someone stop me.**

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"**Red is the Rose" by The High Kings*: **youtube (d-ot) com (slash) watch?v= (remove spaces) 6XpNT1gi6MY

***Note: some words changed for the sake of the fic**

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"Goodness me, where _are_ those girls?!"

Hugo heaved a great sigh, shaking his head furiously. "_Dooooonna_ – Donna, Donna, Donna!" He caught his bustling wife as she scurried past him. The hobbit arranged his wife's curls into a more presentable state as he said, "Let them find whatever it is their looking for, we most definitely won't be late."

Donnamira huffed, placing her fists on her hips. "Hugo you know how I despise –"

"– being late, yes yes yes –" Hugo cut her short, releasing her wild head of hair to cup her cheeks. "Dear, it's just an _auction_; it doesn't take long to get out to Hobbiton."

Donna huffed again. She was doing too much of that these days, Hugo noticed. "Did you hook up the –?"

Hugo nodded furiously. "Yes dear, I _did_!"

She seemed displeased. "Please go make sure it's all hooked up right."

The hobbit frowned at his wife, who scowled pleasantly back. Taking the basket from her arms, Hugo asked, "Only if you help the girls find whatever they're looking for."

Donna huffed once again before picking up her skirts and sweeping past her husband, trotting to their eldest daughter's room, where all three of their girls were gathered. Hugo proceeded to hear more complaints from their eldest, saying something about the flower she couldn't find.

The hobbit chuckled to himself as he opened their bright yellow door. Upon further inspection, a keen hobbit would notice it was well within need of repainting; Hugo made a mental note to bring home some paint while they were in Hobbiton. Maybe they'd go for a different color this time, perhaps green? Or a great burnt orange!

_Yes, orange would be entertaining for a while_, Hugo told himself as he sat in their wagon, not even bothering to check if the sturdy pony was hooked up right. He knew it was, he'd checked it at least a dozen times.

As he sat there pondering a great many things – What if the door was painted blue? How would that look against his eldest's extensive garden? Goodness, just _what_ was taking them so long? – there was a distant hum that reached his sensitive ears. He perked up and looked down the great East-West Road which lay in front of their hobbit hole.

A shape crested the top of the hill a mile or two off in the east, a proud shape atop what very well could have been a horse. Whoever it was he sure did have a deep, melodic drone: Hugo could almost hear every word he said! Maybe when he was about a mile closer, Hugo would look back again; though his tune didn't exactly sound like the familiar pub songs they chanted whenever Hugo ventured to _The Green Dragon_, the stranger's song seemed at least somewhat memorable.

Hugo kept trying to occupy his mind with his concerns – but what concerns did he have to begin with: he had a wonderfully feisty wife, three beautiful daughters, and a boundless garden to admire every morning – his mind kept wandering back to the mysterious stranger. His voice had at least caught the attention of the hitched pony.

Hey, if the pony could hear the visitor's song, why couldn't the hobbit? Hugo took his pipe from his mouth and listened carefully.

_Come over the hills my bonnie dearest lass_

_Come over the hills to your darling_

_You choose the road, love, and I'll make the vow_

_And I'll be your true love forever_

Hugo's brow creased. Oh no, he'd certainly never heard this song before . . .

_Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows_

_Fair is the Lily of the Valley_

_Clear is the water that flows from the ford_

_But my love is fairer than any_

Just as the stranger crested the top of the nearest hill, Hugo heard Donna calling his name repeatedly. He jumped off the wagon and ran inside, immediately being bombarded with his eldest daughter's big green eyes like pools of flooded moss. She wasn't crying, _per say_, more like she was just visibly upset, huffing around on the front mat much like her mother would.

Donna explained it was because the silly girl couldn't find her flower. "Well darling, that flower was never meant to be worn, it's a pretty decoration." Hugo told her gently.

She pouted and then sighed, defeated. "I just don't know where it could've _gone_! I never took it anywhere; one night it was in my room and when I woke up in the morning it'd _disappeared_." With this last she laid a suspiciously raging eye on her two younger sisters who both turned their noses the other way ("We wouldn't have taken it, who wants a _fake_ flower anyway?").

Hugo put an arm around his daughter's taut shoulders. "I'm sure it'll turn up eventually, dear, I'll help you look for it when we get back, alright?"

She looked at him sincerely and nodded. Hugo smiled and planted a hearty kiss on her golden forelock. They chuckled, but upon walking not two steps from their dulled yellow door, father and daughter stopped.

The stranger was coming just around the bend, singing sadly as he and his amber pony trotted lazily along.

_It's not for the parting that my sister pains_

_It's not for the grief of my mother_

_It's all for the loss of my bonny darling lass_

_That my heart is breaking forever_

The strange man dismounted his shaggy pony and tethered it to a tree a ways off. The stranger didn't look . . . _too_ much taller than Hugo was himself, maybe by a few inches. His face was travel-worn, his eyes weary but unusually bright. Humming his miserable tune, he stuffed his thumbs in his broad and intricate belt and descended on down the road, heading straight for the hobbits' small green gate.

_Red is the rose that in yonder garden grows_

_Fair is the Lily of the Valley_

_Clear is the water that flows from the ford_

_But my love is fairer than any_

Here he stopped. The golden-haired stranger was leaning on their gate. Oh how bold he was to stare right at Hugo's eldest daughter, and right in front of the old hobbit himself! And with such a gleam in his eye –

Hugo would not stand for this. "Can I help you sir?" the hobbit shouted across the seemingly endless blooming bushes separating him and his family from the incredibly . . . _unusual_ man. Who had a head of hair just _growing_ out of his face like that?!

The man nodded politely. "Aye sir, you can."

Hugo stuffed his pipe in his mouth, parted his jacket, and hooked his thumbs in his suspenders. "Well?"

"You can let me in to see your garden."

The man certainly was trying Hugo's patience. He huffed (not unlike is wife, I might add). "And why, pray tell, would I do such a thing?"

The visitor smiled. "Your garden is lovely."

Now the old hobbit was huffing like a mad man; hobbits were incredibly territorial when it came to their flowers, almost worse than hummingbirds. "Well, _sir_, no you may not! My family and I are leaving right this instant to drive up the road a ways and take care of some business, so if you wouldn't mind getting your –" he sputtered for a moment, at a loss for words as to what to call those _things_ strapped around the man's forearms "– _sleeves_ off my gate, I'm sure it would make us all quite happy."

The stranger chuckled, reaching down and unlocking the gate himself. "Oh no it wouldn't, sir. Because you see –" The golden-haired man walked through the little green gate, closing it gently behind his fur-draped form (seriously, Hugo could have easily mistaken him for some form of upright mountain cat who had not yet shed it's winter coat, he just had so much _hair_ all over him!), and continued to weave his way on the little path between all the bushes until he came to a stop right in front of the hobbits. Oh my, he was tall indeed, _much _taller than Hugo had ever anticipated. "I've journeyed from a very long and perilous ways away just to come and see one _very particular_ flower in this very garden –" Oh my, my, my, he was _very_ intimidating as well; those ferocious blue eyes like fiery crystals "– and I am not _leaving_ until I get to bring that flower back home _with me_."

Hugo was left absolutely speechless. To think that this _absolute_ _stranger_ had the _audacity_ to come waltzing into his family's garden and _demand_ to bring home a silly flower, why the man must be _insane_! But though the old hobbit was furious on the inside, his outward appearance had withered under the hairy man's scorching cold gaze. "Very well," Hugo said, his throat must drier than he liked. "Go pick your silly flower and be on your way, I won't have you troubling my family anymore over something like this."

Surprisingly, the man nodded in agreement! What a strange fellow he was. "Thank you sir." And with this, he turned to Hugo's eldest daughter; both men were surprised she had stayed so quiet throughout the whole argument, eyeing the stranger with a deeply puzzled gaze. "What is your name, young miss?" His voice was much softer, much kinder than the treatment the girl's father had just been given.

"Canella, good sir." she said after a moment of pause, curtseying politely, if at all a bit distractedly. "Forgive me, but . . . have we met?" Her brow was deeply furrowed.

The stranger took a moment as her words registered in his mind; his gaze grew fond and wise and joyful with as much a hint of subtlety and ferocity as the man could muster. "Oh my dear, we most certainly have."

Canella was puzzled once again, but curiosity now sparkled around her (but not so much as to rival that of her sisters and mother, who were practically bursting at the seams). "Where?"

The stranger's smile grew until it covered nearly the entire half of his face. "In this very garden, my dear."

But here, the stranger did something no one expected: he reached beneath the edge (can you believe it, there was an _end_ to such things!) of his magnificent fur collar and pulled out a long thin bundle, tied with two lengths of string that neatly divided the package into three even bits.

The stranger took a knee and offered the small bundle, no bigger than her hand, to Hugo's oldest daughter. Canella took it with as much grace as her politeness and her sisters' curiosity allowed and unwrapped it, her breath stolen from her lungs when the cloth fell away to reveal none other than that wonderfully jeweled flower she'd been hunting so long for. The stranger had taken the liberty to have made a silver stem with a duo of politely golden leaves sprouting near the middle and attached it to her dazzling flower.

She gazed at him in awe and wonder as he took her hands in his. His blue eyes were so warm, so gentle.

"My name is Fili, nephew of Thorin Oakenshield, and Prince Under the Mountain."

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**Oh my goodness, there were literally so many ways I could've written this chapter; I hope y'all are happy with the way it turned out ^^**

**I like Hugo, he's a precious little munchkin ^w^**

**Canella's parents are taken from the Appendices in the back of **_**The Return of the King**_**; Donnamira Took, the younger sister of our famous Belladonna Took, married dear little Hugo Boffin. I'm not quite sure how many children they had, it doesn't expressly say, but just pretend they had three daughters :3**

**I didn't necessarily mean for Canella and Bilbo to be first cousins, I honestly picked the parents like "Yes, I like their names. I can do things with these hobbits." So if you'd like, you may pretend they're not related (which I'm doing) or you can say they are :) reader's choice. **

**Hummingbirds are very territorial, especially the males during mating season :3**

**Oh! And who knows exactly what **_**AUCTION **_**they're all going to, eh? XD**

* * *

**I'm truly sorry about how not sorry I am for last chapter guise, liek, srsly? I'm happy for the reactions I got from you :) And I thank you reviewers for taking the time to tell me, my darling C.G. and BlightPhoenix and all those new followers an favs I got, it made me all so happy :3**

**But in all honesty, how many of you thought Fili died? Like, cummon be honest, plz.**

******BlightPhoenix**, I'm sorry for wounding you so many times and I apologize if I did it again.

**C.G. gurl (or dude I'm not quite sure) you better review everything I ever write, or PM me if you ever get an account, I don't wanna lose touch with you!**


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